Cat Got Your Tongue?
by noothernames
Summary: AU. What happens when animal control officer Santana Lopez is tasked with seizing Brittany Pierce's many, many cats? She finds out that Brittany's not your typical crazy cat lady.
1. Chapter 1

Hi there. I wrote this as a present to my friend Emma aka tumblnonymous because she's just the sweetest little Australian hamster I know. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

I would just like to note that I've taken a lot of liberties in the portrayal of Santana's job. Both for the sake of the story and for the fact that I had little luck finding information on policies for animal protection/control officers.

EDIT: Okay, by popular demand, I'm making this into a two-shot because why not?

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><p>Santana Lopez did not have a dream job.<p>

That was putting it lightly, actually. She had started her career bright eyed and bushy tailed (as much as a dignified woman, such as she, could be.) She was elated to become one of the few accepted into the field each year, excited to begin a career that made a difference in the world. But now, just a few short years later the enthusiasm which she started with turned into resignation to an obligation. Being an animal protection officer wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about the job that had rendered her so cynical.

Maybe it was the owners, who always feigned surprise when they learned that they were causing harm to their pets ("Gee, Officer, are you telling me that it's _bad_ to tie your dog up in the yard without access to water or food for days on end?") but they were always repentant and assured her that _changes_ would be made. And then when changes weren't made, they became mysteriously absent when Santana or other officers would come by their house. Posted notices were ignored and the animals suffered further. Finally court orders would come through and the animals would be secured and given proper attention (if it wasn't too late, that is). Suddenly the owners returned, red-faced with rage over the fact that their pet has been taken away from them by the state, apparently without notice and without need.

Maybe it was seeing those pets stuck in terrible conditions and not being able to do anything about it because she had to go through the proper procedures. Even when the abuse was blatant.

Then again, maybe it was just down to the grittiness of it all. There were aspects of her job that most people couldn't deal with. Such as dealing with animal hoarders –those people that filled their homes up with more and more pets until it wasn't a good living environment for anyone, humans or animals alike.

Birds were one of her least favourite animals. What do you get when you stuff twenty birds into a one room house? The answer –shit, feathers, and mites _everywhere_. And catching them was another thing altogether.

But cats had to be at the very top of her list of most hated pets. A big part of that had to do with the fact that when Santana dealt with an animal hoarder, it usually was a cat one. Unlike with other animals, people seemed to accumulate cats easily. They never stopped to take a look around their room, filled with numerous litter boxes and twenty cats and pause, thinking "Oh God, what have I done?"

And then there were the cats themselves.

Santana _hated_ cats.

Cats had dander and shed everywhere. Except unlike a bird's feathers, individual cat hairs tended to float midair for an indefinite amount of time, eventually making their way onto your easily irritable eyeballs. Cats hissed, bit, and scratched. At best, a cat treated you with indifference, as though you weren't the person that fed it daily, keeping it alive.

Which was the reason why Santana groaned when she got assigned to yet another cat hoarder. She had already given warnings to two other hoarders that week. And for all her trouble one of the hoarders took a swing at her. Today, however, she was not handing out warnings, she was seizing animals. And what was worse was that she was doing it alone.

Usually seizing was at least a two person job, more if it was needed. But since they were understaffed at the moment and the rest of her team were rescuing some horses that had been abused on a rural property, this case was going to have to be done solo.

Santana sighed as she loaded up the back of her van with kennels for the animals. She could only imagine the hassle she was going to have trying to get those damn cats into the cages. If there was one thing she knew, it was that you couldn't make a cat do what you wanted it to do. Throw food, toys, and catnip into the cage all you want, but if a cat doesn't want to go in there then the only way involves getting scratched and mauled.

After packing the rest of her necessities up, Santana got behind the wheel and input the address of the Crazy Cat Lady (CCL) into the GPS.

Come to think of it, what was CCL's name? Santana was so used to referring to them as "Crazy Cat Lady" in her head that sometimes when they greeted her at the door she couldn't remember their real name. She had to prepare herself so that she wouldn't accidentally slip up and say "Hello Ms. Crazy Cat Lady." She picked up the case file from the passenger seat where she had set it down earlier and flipped it open. The woman's name was printed in bold across the page.

Susan Pierce, huh?

Santana was betting on this one being an old, cantankerous British woman.

The longer the drive went on the worse her mood became. She started to become resentful of Susan Pierce and the flaming hoops that she would undoubtedly make Santana jump through. Maybe she'd slam the door in her face or just pretend not to be home. Or maybe she'd open the door and start yelling obscenities at Santana, insisting that she wasn't an "unfit mother" to her cats (like a woman she had dealt with recently had done). Or maybe she'd get punched in the face again. Who knew?

To her surprise, the GPS brought her to a suburb –straight to a large family home, instead of the one room shack she had been expecting. But as she stepped out of the car, she remained alert. Living in this type of neighbourhood didn't mean that the woman would be any less crazy, it just meant that she was bound to have an even more entitled attitude than your typical crazy cat person.

So when she got to the immaculate front door, she mentally prepared herself for the untold horrors she would find inside. And then she spent a little time reminding herself that as a civil servant she should at least be that –civil. But just as she was about to knock on the door, it swung open, revealing a drop-dead gorgeous blonde. Santana's words stuck in her mouth like peanut butter and she was just left staring impolitely.

Gorgeous Blonde looked her up and down, checking her out in an incredibly obvious way. She then smiled broadly and said "Hi."

Santana blinked and tried to revive her speech capacities. Normally she wouldn't have any trouble saying "Hello, I'm here to take your animals away," but this was no cantankerous old British woman. So instead what came out was a shy "Hey."

She had never been more mortified in her life. She was _Santana Fucking Lopez_, not some demure idiot that didn't know how to do her job.

"So, I saw you just standing here through the window and figured you wanted something but you were too shy to knock," Gorgeous Blonde said.

Against her will, her face flushed hotly.

Usually she was _so_ much smoother with the ladies.

Trying to regain her lost authority, she put on her "serious" face and said "Are you Susan Pierce?"

Blonde looked at her blankly. "No, I'm Brittany Pierce."

A twinge of frustration went through Santana.

"And I don't suppose that Susan is home at the moment, right?"

Brittany shook her head. Santana sighed.

"Do you mind if I wait inside for her?"

She expected the door to be slammed in her face, or at the very least, for Brittany to ask who she was, but neither of those things happened. Instead the girl just nodded and stepped out of the doorway. Slightly shocked by the action, Santana shuffled into the house, wondering if this was some sort of trap.

And when she encountered twenty beady little cat eyes staring her down, she was sure that it really _was_ a trap.

But Brittany wasn't acting like it was a trap, she was as bubbly as ever. "Hey guys, say hi to… what's your name?" She asked.

"Santana," she mumbled.

"That's a nice name," Brittany noted, her eyes growing fond. "Right, say hi to Santana," she told the cats.

To Santana's alarm, the cats all meowed in unison before dispersing, running to different parts of the house. Only one obese tabby cat remained.

"Ah, the good Lord Tubbington is going to guide us to the living room. Follow him."

Okay, no matter how hot Blondie was, she was definitely a crazy cat lady. Susan's habits must have rubbed off on her if she was talking to cats and giving them weird-ass names. But still, Santana followed that damn cat. First into the kitchen, because it seemed that Lord Tubbington was running low on energy (it also gave Brittany the opportunity to make her a cup of coffee). Eventually, when the cat was done scarfing down a meal, they were led to the living room where the next surprise lay.

There weren't any litter boxes on the floor. No cat hair, no toy mice by the barrel-full. In fact, there wasn't anything in the room that would lead you to believe that an extraordinary amount of cats lived in the house.

She must have looked frazzled, because the next thing she knew, Brittany was leading her to a couch and beckoning her to sit down. Brittany sat down on the other side of the couch, and to Santana's dismay, Lord Tubbington saw fit to place his ponderous body in between them. She sighed and took a long sip of her coffee. Lowering the cup, she turned her head to look at the blonde but instead found the cat staring at her with wide, begging eyes.

"Uh…"

"Don't give him any coffee."

"I wasn't going to. What kind of person gives-" Santana started before Brittany cut her off.

"Now that he's given up smoking I'm making him give up caffeine too. He's very tempted to fall off the wagon," She explained.

Santana didn't quite know how to respond, so she took another sip before lowering her cup to a coaster on the coffee table (true to her words, the cat's eyes never left the cup). And that's when she noticed _it_. The insanely obvious centerpiece of the room that she had been too busy looking for litter boxes to notice.

It was a huge painting of Brittany riding a unicorn and waving a large rainbow flag.

It was fucking brightly coloured and somehow majestic. And very, very gay.

"That's… quite the painting you have there," Santana commented.

Brittany nodded and looked up at it, admiringly.

"Yeah, I got that done two years ago after Pride because I didn't want the rainbows to end. The artist painted it for free when he recognised who I was. Apparently my invention changed his life."

Santana raised an eyebrow before nodding approvingly. So Blondie went to Pride parades and liked rainbows, huh? She would dwell on that later, because for now another pressing inquiry was forefront in her mind.

"You're an inventor?"

Brittany waved her hand dismissively.

"No, I'm not an inventor, really. I've only made one thing, but it turned out to be popular enough to keep the royalties coming in. So I'm able to afford all this," she gestured to her surroundings. "Even though my day job as a dance teacher doesn't pay all that well."

The blonde took a sip of her own coffee. She seemed to notice that a bit of the drink had dripped to the corner of her mouth, because the next thing Santana knew Brittany's tongue was darting out and dragging lightly from the corner of her mouth, then up over her lip in a way that could only be called sensual. The action seemed both natural, as though she hadn't been thinking about it, but at the same time painfully deliberate.

_Well, fuck._

Santana crossed her legs and cleared her throat.

"Right. Good. So, what was the invention?"

Brittany chuckled softly, then crossed her own legs in mirror. Santana had to remind herself that she was a professional. It wasn't right to stare longingly at a possible animal abuser's long, toned legs. Even if she was a dancer.

"Have you ever seen the infomercials for Nipple Warmers? That's the one."

_Nipple Warmers! Are you sick and tired of your nipples showing through your shirt at work, home, and out on the town due to poor room temperature? Can't stand being embarrassed one more time? Then fear no more! Nipple Warmers is the revolutionary new system that uses nipple warming technology to warm your nipples and save you the embarrassment of having them show. _

"_Thank you Nipple Warmers! Now I can live life to the fullest!"_

The infomercial Santana knew by heart from her penchant for late night television stopped playing in her head. She now looked at Brittany in a whole new light.

"You made Nipple Warmers? And it gave you enough money to pay for all this?"

The blonde nodded confidently.

"See this is the thing. In high school there was this perv named Puck and whenever he saw me he would say 'Hey Britnips Pierce, you might want to control your girls', even when I didn't have a nipple situation going on!" Brittany gave Santana a grave look. The other girl shook her head, as though commiserating with her, which seemed to be the right thing to do. "And so I invented Nipple Warmers so that the next time he told me that, I wouldn't second guess what my nipples were doing at the moment."

"Smart," she complimented.

"And as for how Nipple Warmers got so many sales… apparently now people like to order it to use them for some sex things. I don't know what exactly. But there's a lot of porn wouldn't have been possible without the help of my invention."

Come to think of it, had she seen porn that featured Nipple Warmers?

While she was busy contemplating this, a ball of fur ran across the room and leapt into her lap.

Oh shit.

There was a fucking cat on her now. A long haired one that was sure to leave white hairs all over her black pants. Perfect.

"I think Charity likes you."

Charity was giving her this enamoured, half-lidded look and was purring loudly.

"I usually have this effect on women," Santana answered, before mentally kicking herself.

Brittany wholeheartedly laughed at that.

"I can believe that," She said, with a wink.

The dig of Charity's claws into her leg wasn't enough to abate the heavy blush she felt spreading across her face. But it did remind her of why she was here in the first place.

"So uh, when do you think Susan's going to get back?"

The flirty look on Brittany's face evaporated and it was replaced with a wondering one. "I don't know, when _is_ she getting here?"

Santana took that question as a sign that she had annoyed the girl. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed that you would know where your um-" She blanked at what the next word should be. "Your _person_ is at all times. I guess I'll just wait here some more," she winced at her own words.

But come to think of it, what were Brittany and Susan to each other? Two women, living together off of Brittany's royalties, apparently, and then they decided to get a bunch of cats.

So many other relations were a possibility. They could be mother and daughter, or sisters, or something else, but the question Santana found leaping out of her mouth was, "Are you and Susan married?"

There was a moment where Brittany looked at her like she had just asked the strangest question ever.

"No, of course not. I'm single."

The other girl let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

"And how can I be married to someone I don't even know?"

Santana's eyebrows drew together in bewilderment.

"Wait, what?"

"You're waiting here for your friend Susan to show up, right? Well I've never met her before," the blonde explained.

The frustration that Santana had been anticipating was making itself known.

"So what you're telling me is that you, Brittany Pierce, do not know a Susan Pierce who also lives at this address?"

This was the same old shit again. Blondie was stalling so that her partner could sneak off and probably take a bunch of cats with her. And what's worse was that Santana had fallen for it. She'd been too distracted by Brittany's legs to use her goddamn head. She just couldn't believe that she had actually thought that Brittany wanted to talk to her instead of just use her.

"Yeah, I know, it's weird right? She has my last name and Susan is my middle name too. It's such a strange coincidence," The blonde said.

Suddenly the pieces all came together. The anger drained out of Santana at discovering the truth.

"Brittany Susan Pierce. I got it wrong, _you_ are the one I'm looking for," She sighed. "And didn't you suspect that I had mixed up your name?"

Brittany smiled guiltily, as though she was now caught. "I wasn't sure, but eventually I figured you were really looking for me. The thing is I don't get a lot of cute girls knocking at my door and I wanted to talk to you for a bit."

Santana tried not to react to the word "cute". This woman had a blatant disregard for the livelihood of her pets (even if the two in the room with her seemed pretty content.) Santana would not be doing anything other than what she set out to do –seizing the animals.

"You looked so serious when you first got here that I knew you'd be all business if I told you that I was Susan. I'm glad I didn't, because we had a nice conversation and I was able to stare at you in that super-hot uniform for a while," Santana was overtaken by a bout of coughing at Brittany's words (but it was very professional coughing, honest.) When she was done, Brittany continued with a smile that could only be described as Cheshire, "But now that you've found me out, what can I do for you?"

Santana was going to be professional about this. She was _not_ going to let some blonde discombobulate her so much that she can't do her job properly. She picked up the case file and opened it up.

"I am here with animal protection. One of your neighbours was the one to initially call us about the amount of cats you currently own being above the maximum allowed per household in a residential area. According to this you were issued two warnings, both of which were ignored."

Brittany looked taken aback, whether it was by her suddenly stern tone or the information she was providing.

"Warnings? I thought those were just fake notices that my neighbour Jacob put up after I said I wouldn't go on a date with him."

That name rang a bell.

"Jacob…?"

"Ben Israel," Brittany supplied.

Santana looked down to the case file and found that, as expected, the original complainant was a man named Jacob Ben Israel.

_What a jerk_, she thought, a twinge of irritation going through her.

But as low as it was for Jacob to report Brittany to the authorities because she wouldn't go on a date with him, she was still violating pet safety codes all the same.

"He must have warned you that he was going to do it, at least, even if you didn't believe him. In this it says that your cats repeatedly urinated and defecated on his property. He couldn't have been happy about that."

Brittany shrugged her shoulders. "All of my cats are trained to use the litter box. I even trained some of them to use the toilet and flush afterwards. They know better than to go to the bathroom on someone's front lawn." She looked down at Lord Tubbington and pet him lovingly before continuing. "The reason that they decided to forget that they were trained was because they found Jacob using binoculars to spy on me getting changed one night. So the next day they decided that Jacob's front yard was their own personal toilet."

Santana was torn between laughing in disbelief and patting Lord Tubbington (obviously the leader of the rebellion) on the head and telling him "Good job." But she couldn't do either of those things, so she just stayed quiet.

"You know what? Even though they've formed different packs and steal each other's babies all the time they really came together in the end. But I guess that's what families do, right?" Brittany said, her lips spreading into a wide smile.

Had she met this girl anywhere else, Santana could indulge in the warm feeling she got from this odd yet endearing statement. But this was _work_ and Brittany just wasn't making things easier for her.

"I'm sorry Brittany, but the fact of the matter is that you have thirty cats in a residential neighbourhood. That's just too much. I'm going to have to take some, if not all, away," She said.

She felt like absolute scum when she saw Brittany's face drop.

_I'm just doing my job. I'm just doing my job_, she repeated in her head to ease the guilt.

"But I treat them really well! They have plenty of room to live in and besides Jacob, no one else has complained about them," Brittany explained.

The girl's hand was now on Santana's knee, squeezing slightly, as though hoping that the action would provide some leniency. That's what Santana got for being so transparent with her attraction to Brittany.

"Listen, from what I've seen so far it seems like you really love and care for your pets," she gestured to the two perfectly content cats on the couch. "And based on our talk here today you seem like the most genuinely nice person I've met in, well… a long time."

That compliment earned her a radiant smile, which she wanted to return but she knew that Brittany was going to turn on her after the next sentence. She just _knew_. Like all the others that seem initially nice, Blondie was going to curse and throw a fit after finding out that Santana wouldn't let her off the hook. And Santana would return home that night with cat scratches up her arms, a ripped uniform, and something much like regret.

"But cats need a lot of room to live in and even though this house is bigger than the ones I usually go to, it's still not big enough for all these cats. So I'm going to have to take them away," She said, almost apologetically.

To her surprise, Brittany just nodded solemnly.

"I get it, whatever you need to do. I know you wouldn't do it if you didn't have to," the hand on Santana's knee squeezed again. "I was just hoping that you would come with me so I could show you all the room they have to live in. I would be upset if you left here thinking that I was some crazy lady that neglects animals."

Santana's chest tightened when she saw the sad, resigned look on Brittany's face.

"I would never think that."

She said it quietly, but it seemed like the girl had heard her, if the softening of her eyes was any indication. She took Charity out of her lap and they both stood up.

This time instead of having Lord Tubbington lead her around, Brittany was. She was tugging her along by their connected pinkies. It was strange, and not altogether professional, but somehow it felt right.

First Brittany lead her to the dining room, which had a glass patio door leading to the backyard. A few cats were sunning themselves lazily near the door, but when Santana approached, she saw the majority of the cats were outside, running, eating grass, or play fighting.

"This is where they spend a lot of their time. They'd probably spend all of it outside if mice and birds weren't afraid to go in our yard anymore."

At that, Santana started scanning the yard for evidence of small animal carcasses, but she was unable to find even a beak out of place. Maybe they just ate them whole.

Brittany didn't seem to notice her distraction, she just tugged again at her pinkie, as though signalling that the tour was moving on. She was lead a short distance, into the kitchen. Next to the fridge there was a humongous automated feeder, filled to the brim with cat food.

"This is where they eat. The feeder's filled with the good, balanced kind of cat food and is set on a timer so that they don't eat more than they're supposed to. The only one that's a bit bigger is Lord Tubbs, but that's because he has an underactive thyroid, or at least that's what he tells me," Brittany said, shrugging slightly in the end.

"That's really smart," Santana commented.

They exchanged a smile. But now she was being tugged some more. Upstairs, this time. Brain stalled for a moment as she was immediately reminded of random hook-ups she would have at house parties when she was in high school. But Santana wasn't sixteen anymore, there was no liquid courage, and she was ninety nine percent sure that Brittany's intent wasn't anything sexual. Probably.

"So um… we have four rooms up here, three of them for the cats and one for me."

Santana's mind was abruptly brought out of the gutter as she was introduced to a room filled with pet beds, scratching posts, and various scattered cat toys.

"They sleep in one of the rooms or in the living room, or wherever they feel like sleeping, really. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you can't tell a cat what to do. They do things their own way," Brittany said.

"We have that in common," Santana commented.

That's what she said, at least. But when Brittany looked her straight in the eyes and pulled at their connected fingers one more time, Santana heeded the beckoning. She took one step, then another, walking straight into the other girl's personal space, as though such a thing didn't exist. And Brittany was letting her, her calm blue eyes staring boldly into Santana's own brown ones. There was a quick intake of breath and suddenly their eyes disconnected as Brittany was moving on to show her the other rooms, which looked nearly identical to the first. She briefly disconnected their pinkies, which worried Santana into thinking she overstepped her boundaries, but to her relief she felt Brittany reach for her again, this time to hold her hand.

"And this one's my room," She said, sounding almost embarrassed.

She opened the door and instead of the rainbow explosion Santana had been expecting, she found a downplayed but lovely room, without even one loose cat toy. Brittany let go of her hand and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking lost in thought. She went to sit down next to her and for a moment they just stayed in silence until finally the blonde spoke.

"You see, when my last girlfriend, Quinn, left me for this Broadway star I was pretty sad. I was really, really sad."

She could not believe that anyone would leave Brittany period, let alone in order to be with some shrill egoist, like she was sure this a Broadway star would be. Santana had just met the girl today and she was already incredibly charmed by her. She had to bite her tongue so that she wouldn't bark out the words "What a fucking idiot."

"I just had Lord Tubbington and Charity back then. They were the only things that comforted me. But this house still felt so empty. I felt empty too," Brittany bit her lip slightly. "So I guess I just got to filling it up with more and more cats. And it worked, soon I didn't feel sad anymore. But I guess I just didn't realise that after a certain point I had too many," she grimaced. "I was only thinking about myself and now they're all going to have to find new homes because of me."

Santana placed a tentative hand on Brittany's shoulder.

"You're not a bad owner, Brittany. Trust me, I've seen how animals turn out when they've been neglected and abused. The worst thing those cats of yours seem to have is a sense of vigilante justice."

They both laughed at the truth in that.

"I'm going to miss them, though."

And with one painful squeeze in her chest, Santana decided to do something she really shouldn't have even considered doing. It was unprofessional, against her nature, and could potentially get her fired.

But something about Brittany made her want to be careless.

"Okay. Here's what's going to happen," She started, seriously.

The blonde was now blinking in her confusion.

"I'm going to take all of the kittens –they should be easier to get adopted than the older cats. And do you have any cats that you don't especially like?"

"There's a few. I try to love them all equally but then the next thing I know Whiskers is peeing in my sock drawer and I really don't like him," Brittany said, brow furrowing.

Santana nodded. "Good, so if we take them and the kittens out, how many cats do we have left?"

Brittany frowned, calculating the number in her head. "Um, I think eleven. Six girls and five boys."

That was still quite a lot. But Santana was a big girl and she could deal with that.

"All right, not bad. Now I'm assuming that not all of them are spayed or neutered, which is why we keep having kittens, right?"

The sheepish look was back. "I know it's bad, but each time I try to bring the girls in they're already pregnant again. We have a lot of alley cats that sneak in for secret dates."

"But the males are all neutered?" Santana got a nod. "Good. Okay so here's the plan. As long as you promise not to get any more cats –and I'm going to hold you to this, because I'm not supposed to do this –you can keep the five male cats."

Brittany's face light up like she had just been told that she won the lottery. But her excitement was dimmed slightly when she realised what that meant.

"But you're taking Charity and the rest to the pound?"

"Not… exactly," Santana said.

This was the part that could really get her in trouble.

"I was thinking that I could adopt them. That way you know who's taking care of your cats and you could maybe –only if you felt comfortable with it –come visit them sometime?" Santana told her.

_And me, come visit me too_, she mentally added.

Because it didn't matter that Santana hated the fur that clung to your clothes, or a cat's indifference, or the hissing, biting, and scratching. Because today she had been in a house filled with cats and she hadn't been bothered by any of those things. All she knew is that she liked Brittany Pierce and she wanted to see more of her. And if she had to learn to love cats in order for that to happen, then so be it.

And by Brittany's radiant smile Santana was guessing that Brittany didn't mind seeing a bit more of her too.


	2. Chapter 2

_Now_ we're done. For reals, kids. I hope you enjoy this short end chapter.

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><p>"<em>Meow."<em>

"What do you want?"

"_Meow."_

"I _just_ let you outside and all you did was walk three feet and then you wanted to come back inside."

"_Meow."_

"I've fed you, you have fresh water at your disposal, and I've pet you –even though you're annoying. What's the problem?"

"_Meow."_

"I'm not letting you back outside. I refuse to let you make me constantly open and close this door for your own amusement."

"_Meow."_

"Look at your sisters, they don't play games like this. How much more attention seeking can you be? You're acting like the Stephanie Tanner of this household right now."

"_Meow."_

Santana sighed heavily before making her way to the patio door and opening it abruptly. The small black cat (what was this one called? Smoky? Snowy?) that had been antagonising her let out another chirpy meow and hopped through the door, into the backyard.

"Of course you wouldn't know what that means. You think that Big Brother is _quality_ programming. As if."

She went back into the living room and settled heavily on the couch. The five cats that dominated the couch apparently had been nice enough to leave her a tiny space.

_Bastards._

The cats' eyes were trained upon the television, which was showing the latest episode of Big Brother. But you know what? They didn't _deserve_ to know who won the Head of Household for the week. She picked up the remote and switched the channel. She came across an old episode of the Golden Girls and decided to settle on watching that. The cats noticed the change immediately. Their wide eyes stared her down. She ignored them, focussing on the opening credits. Charity tilted her head and let out a short, imploring meow. Santana turned up the sound a bit and started singing the theme song.

"Thank you for being a friiiieeeend-"

The cats all stood up and let out a couple more meows, this time more insistent. Frowning now, she continued.

"Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidaaaaaant."

Princess Meow, a decidedly un-regal grey tabby, decided to drape herself over Santana's lap and looked up at her with sad eyes. She let out a sorrowful yowl that surely would have pierced the heart of thousands. But what Princess Meow didn't know was that Santana was resilient. She did not coo or cuddle and she would _not_ let herself be intimidated by an animal.

"You wouuuuld see, the biggest gift would be from me."

The other cats apparently decided that Princess Meow had the right idea because they all started piling on her and meowing. Tinkerbell was curling around her neck like a scarf, Charity and Cola perched on either of her knees, and Portia (de Rossi?) decided to try to balance herself on Santana's head.

They weren't going to win this. She couldn't let them.

"AND THE CARD ATTACHED WOULD SAY THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND!" She yelled, hoping to startle the cats off.

Instead, they just stood their ground, their yowls becoming ever higher pitched, and more annoying than Santana even thought was possible. And as the pi_è_ce de r_é_sistance, Smoky or Snowy decided it was time to be let back inside and started to loudly claw at the screen door, likely tearing it to shreds.

"Okay, okay, that's it!"

She pushed all the cats off her and switched the channel back to Big Brother. Immediately the meowing stopped and the cats resumed their mesmerized viewing, purrs filling the room.

"Enjoy," she sneered.

Now it was their turn to ignore her. She rolled her eyes and went to the patio door. She opened it and that cat whose name she can't remember trotted in happily.

"God damn it, I hate you cats. Why did I even agree to take you? I can't even watch my shows," she muttered.

Oh, was that ever sad. She was talking to the cats as though they were humans now. She didn't even _like_ the animals and she was just one all-cat tea party away from being a crazy cat lady. Really, why on earth did she think this was a good idea? This was just sad and embarrassing and…

The doorbell rang suddenly and Santana snapped to attention. She practically ran to the front hall, making sure to quickly check her reflection in a nearby mirror. With the front door facing her, she steadied her breathing and counted to three. The doorbell rang a second time and Santana was ready for it. She opened the door to find Brittany bundled up in a heavy coat, her cheeks pink from the chill. Seeing Santana, she broke out into a radiant smile.

"Hi."

Santana had attempted to affix a blasé expression on her face, but it melted into a warm one. She just couldn't keep a front up with Brittany.

"Hey. So, you want to come inside or do like the cold better?"

Brittany stepped inside and quickly closed the door. She sighed happily at the warmth of the house. She unzipped her coat and passed it into Santana's waiting hand.

"Are you going to warm me up?" She asked, teasingly.

A jolt went through Santana and she had to remind herself what having composure feels like. She had experienced many moments like this with Brittany over the past month. Brittany was all flirtation and teasing, so much so that Santana had a hard time telling whether that was just a part of her nature or if it was, well… more. But for all that flirtation and teasing, they hadn't done much more than cuddle on the couch –with fucking cats everywhere, mind you. Not exactly the most romantic of moments.

So instead of telling Brittany exactly what parts on her she wanted to warm up, she just smiled and sandwiched the girl's two cold hands in between her own warm ones.

"Wow, you really are cold. Maybe I should get you gloves for Christmas."

Brittany's mouth pulled to the side, clearly not caring for that idea.

"No, I don't need gloves as long as you'll be there to warm my hands up."

Santana laughed. "Oh, is that so? I can't warm up your hands each time. You'll steal all my warmth and then _my_ hands will be cold."

Brittany contemplated that for a moment. "Well, cold hands don't matter so much –the really important thing is that your nipples don't get cold. I'll get you a couple of packs of Nipple Warmers and then you can warm up my hands until we get the same amount of warmth. After that I won't take any more of your warmth, I promise."

Her composure was failing quickly. When Brittany said that Santana could warm up her hands, did she mean with her own hands or with the Nipple Warmers, which would presumably be on her…

"Um."

"Don't worry, they're safe to use. I'm wearing some right now," Brittany said, helpfully.

Santana felt her face flush, but the blonde didn't seem to notice, as she strode purposefully into the living room.

"Hi guys, how's it going?"

The cats spared her an uninterested look before returning their attention back to the show. Her brows furrowed and she fixed Santana with a mild glare.

"What have you done to my cats? They're not even excited to see me."

Santana shrugged. "To be fair, you did come over on Wednesday night for fondue. You can't expect them to be that excited when they just saw you three days ago."

"Maybe I shouldn't come over that often then," Brittany hummed.

Wait, no, wait. Why would she want to do that?

"That's a terrible idea. The cats will have thought that you've abandoned them," Santana said, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she thought she did.

A small smile played on Brittany's lips. She moved forward, seemingly towards the couch, but brushed much closer to Santana than she needed to. She paused her motion to take Santana in, like she did on the day they met, her eyes traversing up her torso and then lingering at her lips. Santana's breath caught in her throat.

"Right. The _cats_ will miss me," Brittany murmured before moving past Santana and going to sit on the couch.

An entire array of colourful swears were popping into Santana's brain at the moment. Brittany knew _just_ how to work her up without following through with anything.

But then again, maybe she was waiting for _Santana_ to follow through.

Normally the moves came quite easy for her, but in the face of Brittany S. Pierce, inventor/dancer/sex goddess/crazy cat lady, she found her confidence lacking. She never had this problem with Sugar. With her, Santana just took the reins, acting bossy and Sugar would melt like, well, _sugar_ in her mouth. Which was a pretty accurate portrayal of their relationship as a whole. But Santana didn't want Brittany to melt like sugar. She didn't want a quick sweet fix, something that would satisfy her for a moment and then would be gone. She wanted a little bit more substance than that.

And maybe the way that Brittany looked at her sometimes meant that she wanted that too.

"Come sit with me already."

Snapping to attention, her body immediately obeyed the command, making her way to the couch. But as she was about to sit down, she noticed that Portia had taken up the space next to Brittany. Santana tried nudging the cat to give it a hint but Portia stayed in place, sending a look that made it clear that the cat was not moving from that comfy spot of its own accord.

_I will not be cockblocked by a cat_, Santana thought, picking it up and placing it on the next seat, where the other cats hissed their displeasure.

She didn't give a damn about the cats though because now Brittany was smiling at her. Impulsively, Brittany grabbed one of the other girl's hands with her own and started tracing the lines on her palm.

Santana laughed. "Are you a palm reader now, on top of everything else?"

"Would it surprise you if I said I was?" Brittany said. Putting on a mock serious face, she distinguished six lines with her index finger. "See these? These are your pet lines. You will have six cats in your lifetime."

"Wow, you truly are psychic. What else do you see? Any romance in my future?"

Now Brittany was concentrating hard on her hand with such scrutiny that Santana was glad she had nice hands.

"You know what? I do see someone in your close future. Someone tall, blonde. Maybe someone in this very-"

But she never got to finish that sentence because all of a sudden Santana let out a pained yelp from the feeling of ten cat claws digging into her leg simultaneously. But before she could remove the cat, the claws retracted and a purring Portia softly deposited herself into Santana's lap.

And people would wonder why she didn't like cats.

Smoothing her hand soothingly over her injured leg, Santana gave the feline an icy glare.

"Oh, that's not going to teach her anything," Brittany said.

True to her words, the cat just made itself more comfortable. That is, until Brittany picked it up and put it down on the floor.

"Bad Portia! You don't hurt Santana. Bad!" she reproached, waggling a finger at it.

The cat twitched its tail before scampering off. She turned back to Santana with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. You just need to discipline them or else they're going to walk all over you and make you watch Big Brother. Which reminds me," she switched the channel.

The four cats meowed their protests once more.

"No," she said firmly.

One of them let out a soulful plea.

"No, you know how this works, Charity. If you don't like it then you can leave," she pointed the door out for them.

To Santana's utter shock, the four leapt down from the couch and sulkily left the room. Just like that. Ever since Santana had first let those cats in the door, she had tried everything to stop them from ruling her life and all Brittany had to do was say a couple things and they obeyed her like they were eager-to-please puppies. It was weird. But now that Santana thought about it, if Brittany asked _her_ to do something, regardless of what it was she would probably do it.

Concerned eyes pinned her in place. "Is your leg okay?" Brittany softly asked.

Any complaints about razor-sharp claws escaped Santana's mind as her sense of bravado came up.

"Oh no, that's nothing. It just surprised me a little. I'm tough, you know? I'm from Lima Heights adjacent," she puffed out her chest proudly.

Brittany nodded but looked a bit sceptical. "I don't know what that means, but I believe you."

She gave Santana's injured thigh a soft squeeze. As a result, the girl was feeling a bit discombobulated.

"Right! Uh, so… I'm from a town called Lima and well –the thing is there's Lima and then there's Lima Heights ad-"

"How about you tell me later, Hon. Golden Girls is back on," Brittany interrupted.

And then she scooted down and rested her head on Santana's shoulder like it was nothing. Though Santana's mind was buzzing, she forced herself to relax (if only outwardly) and just enjoy the moment. She cuddled into the other girl and watched the antics of her favourite old ladies. Blanche was on screen now, being dramatic and sassy.

"I always liked her the best. She's so confident, she doesn't care what people think of her," she explained to Brittany. "Plus, she always gets a lot of tail."

Brittany giggled at that. "When I was younger I liked Rose. She has all the best stories. I want to go visit St. Olaf one day."

If Santana had to guess which Golden Girl Brittany liked best, she would have said just that. Of course this daffy, lovable girl would like the daffy, lovable Rose.

"The only thing I could never figure out was which of the girls were having sex with each other? Was It Rose and Blanche? Or Blanche and Dorothy? Or was it a free for all after the cameras panned away?"

That made Santana pause. She pulled away to look at Brittany critically. The blonde looked unsettled by the missing contact and by Santana's arched eyebrow.

"I didn't mean Dorothy's mom would be in on it too! That'd be just weird," Brittany furrowed her brow.

Santana shook her head a bit and laughed.

When the episode was over, there was a bit of indecision about what they should do next. Santana's libido was pleading its case vehemently in her mind, but before any spontaneous (and lewd) suggestions could come out of her mouth, Brittany was digging through her movie collection and popping up with her choice.

"The Little Mermaid?" Santana asked in disbelief.

Brittany smirked and nodded her head. "Yeah, The Little Mermaid," She said.

Except it came out more like "Yeah, The Liiiiitttttleee Mermaaaaaaiiiddd." Santana didn't quite know what to make of that so she just agreed to watching a movie that was sure to not only kill the mood, but to absolutely obliterate it. It's not like she was looking forward to moving things in a more adult direction tonight. Nope.

As her mood became foul, she fought hard to make sure her face didn't reflect how she was feeling. It wasn't Brittany's fault that Santana was too much of a coward to make a move before the children's movie got put on. And too much of a coward to make a move on fondue night. Or the time before that. Or the time before that.

Even when Brittany pulled Santana's arm around her shoulder with a smile, Santana was not comforted. Because now it was occurring to her that she really _had_ waited too long. Now she was going to be relegated to being the platonic friend that Brittany cuddled with when there was no one better around. She'd get to hear all about the girl's dates with other women while internally kicking herself the whole time. Now that she'd screwed it all up, she was just the idiot that agreed to co-parent a bunch of needy cats, with only cuddles and a chaste goodbye at the end of the night as her reward.

What an idiot.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Santana."

She blinked out of berating herself mentally to find that Brittany was fixing her with an intense look.

"Oh, um, hi Brittany. I must have dozed off there. What part are we at? Poor, unfortunate souls?"

"Are we going to make out now or what?"

Santana froze.

"Pardon?"

Brittany was close, closer than she had been all night. So close that Santana could feel the hot licks of breath on her cheek. So close that it was impossible to look anywhere except into those intense blue eyes. Not that she really _wanted_ to look anywhere else.

"I've wanted to kiss you ever since you showed up on my front step that day. And I'm pretty sure you want to kiss me too. But so far, nothing," Brittany said, shrugging her shoulders.

Santana's heart lurched in her chest.

"I thought it might have been that you liked your place better, so I came over here more often. Then I thought it might have been that the cats were there and you didn't want to kiss in front of them because you're shy, so I got rid of them," she listed, looking frustrated. "And then when that didn't seem to help, I put on The Little Mermaid –the sexiest movie ever. But that didn't help either."

And all that Santana could absorb from that was "The sexiest movie ever? Really?"

Brittany nodded with conviction. "Yeah, mermaids are hot. They're like the unicorns of the sea."

"Okay. Sure."

"So?"

"So?" Santana mimicked, unable to form a competent sentence at the moment.

Blue eyes searched her face for a hint, a sign. When it wasn't found, Brittany opted to trail hand down the outline of her face, so lightly that Santana nearly shuddered. The hand now cupped her face and made her look back into those eyes.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you now?"

The words were tentative. They were so far from Brittany's usual effortless confidence that Santana suddenly realised what was being said.

It wasn't too late. She was still an idiot for not making a move sooner, but it wasn't too late.

"Yes. Yes, you can kiss me," She murmured.

Then Brittany smiled like Santana had just told her that she'd get her an actual unicorn for Christmas. And then the small gap between them was bridged and now Brittany was kissing her. The kiss was soft, tentative like her words had been, but it grew more sure when Santana started kissing back.

Brittany was a good kisser.

No, scratch that. A _great_ kisser.

And Santana was really wondering what took her so long to figure that out.

Their kisses became more fervid. Brittany took charge, shifting their bodies so that she was lying on top of Santana on the couch, as though they were two teenagers about to engage in some heavy petting. Santana shivered at the thought.

And then she nearly moaned because now Brittany's tongue was in her mouth, caressing her own. Actually, she _did_ moan. And apparently the blonde noticed, because now she was pulling away with a devilish grin. Then she lowered her mouth, not back down to Santana's mouth, but to her neck.

"God-"

She felt Brittany smile into her neck before she continued to drag her tongue over Santana's pulse point. She used a little teeth to tease her and placed open mouthed kisses in a trail down the column of Santana's neck. Brittany _had_ to know just what this was doing to her.

She probably did, considering the tight grip Santana had on the back of her shirt and the way that the girl was rocking into her. Apparently, out of a feeling of mercy, Brittany stopped teasing her and kissed her properly.

Things were heating up fast. Kisses that started off innocently enough were now becoming deeply passionate. Santana knew that one of them should stop this thing before it careened out of control, but she just didn't want to be the one. Brittany's soft lips were too irresistible. Which is why, against what she would do when she wasn't so intoxicated by the blonde's presence, her hand moved from gripping Brittany's back, down to her side, and northwards. It really wasn't her fault. Brittany's breast must have some kind of magnetic presence, because it was attracting her hand. It moved closer and closer to its target destination. Closer and closer, and then finally-

Her hair was moving. But Brittany's hands were placed firmly on either side of Santana. Which meant…

Santana broke away from the kiss and looked up, finding a cross-eyed Portia chewing on a bit of her hair, which was spread out on the couch cushion.

"Go away," She demanded through gritted teeth.

Portia ignored her and continued on. Santana raised her arm to try to bat the cat away but it stayed in place. She looked back at Brittany and sighed.

"I'm sorry, that kind of ruined the moment, right?"

Brittany didn't look especially disheartened. "No, it was good. I really like kissing you."

That little leap Santana's heart just did was probably normal and not her having early cardiac issues. But then again one time in a public bathroom stall, she did see the words "Heart attacks are just from loving too much" written on the wall in sharpie, so who knew?

"I think they're just trying to chaperone us."

Santana blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Brittany now looked uncomfortable. "I mean, I have three cats lying on my back. They _really_ don't want us to continue."

The other girl sighed once more.

"Do they have such a thing as cat sitters? Because next time I won't want to stop kissing you," Santana told her.

Brittany laughed. "I'll make a few calls," She said, before lowering her lips again for a chaste kiss.

The outraged meowing started up, but all Santana knew in that moment was the movement of Brittany's soft lips.


End file.
